


Cardinal Points

by lithiumlaughter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Eastern Promises (2007), James Bond (Craig movies), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: AU, Canon Crossover, Crimes & Criminals, Genderswap, Mild Language, Multi, Organized Crime, adding characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lithiumlaughter/pseuds/lithiumlaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a school down in New Orleans, things aren't just about to get weird. They're about to get downright fucked up.</p><p>[Or, stop me if you've heard this one: a set of criminal twins and a future MI6 operative walk into a biology class taught by a Russian mobster...]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time I wrote an AU X-Men fanfic that gave birth to one Riley LeBeau. 
> 
> In a 'fifteen characters/questions' meme a long while back, but not so far back as once upon a time, the questions vikingprincess asked created a world in which the newly minted LeBeau twins -- Remy and an evidently mildly bisexual Riley -- and Peggy "M" Carter attend a high school in New Orleans where Nikolai of "Eastern Promises" is a teacher. Insanity ensues. She encouraged the creation of a fic, and then xenokattz threw one of her bunnies at me (and then provided a wonderful beta, so I suppose she gets a reprieve of sorts). It was kinda hopeless from that point on. 
> 
> Also, what do you mean there's no British Consulate in New Orleans? That the closest one is in Huston, Texas? Good lord people. Haven't you heard of willing suspension of disbelief?

Lunchtime at Saint George's Academy was a mess of noise, movement, and a sea of uniformed students enjoying the hour of freedom they were granted before shuffling off to classes once more. In the cafeteria, three individuals sat around a table munching at unremarkable brown-bagged meals: Riley LeBeau, her twin Remy, and Peggy Carter.

"Are you going to skip classes this afternoon?" asked Peggy.

Riley nodded along. "You said you wanted to go dick around at the mall or something."

"And miss biology?" Remy asked dryly. "Perish the thought."

Both girls shot him a look.

Peggy took a vicious bite of her sandwich. "Just because you're --"

"I ain't jealous, if that's what you're getting at," he interjected. "That'd just be ridiculous. Watching you swoon over Mr. Nikolai just gets old is all."

The fair point quieted Peggy, though she still glared.

Riley hid the smallest of smiles behind her water bottle. "I, for one, am lookin' forward to going over the intricacies of the endocrine system in class today."

"Thought you'd be more lookin' forward to the unit on the reproductive system."

"Nah. More your area of expertise, m'thinkin'."

"'Cause you don' know anything about _that._ "

There was a heavy huff from Peggy, though it was affectionate.  "Can we agree that you two are both incorrigible, and leave it at that?"

Riley grinned. "Y'still love us though, yeah?"

"Sadly, yes."

 The shift from playful to thankful expressions on their faces did not go unnoticed.

***

Forty-five minutes later, the bell rang and they prepared to go their separate ways. Peggy had left first, seeing as her books were already waiting in her bag, leaving the twins scooping up their own.

" _Y'still love us though, yeah?_ " Remy mimicked. "Subtle."

"Oh, like you weren't  relieved too."

And there was the largest bone of contention between the two of them laid bare.

"You're better off nursin' that crush on -- what's'is face -- that Andrew guy."

"I _know_ ," she said, words prickly. "An' in case you didn't notice, I kinda am. He's got a damn fine pair of pants I'd love to get in to. Doesn't mean that I like Peggy any less. So if you'll shut your fool mouth, I won't have to punch you right here in the cafeteria."

Obliging her, Remy didn't go any further with the subject. Last time one of them threw a punch at the other on school grounds, it had ended with blood, bruises, black eyes, and a three day suspension for both of them.

Their teachers had not been impressed.

Their father, on the other hand, had been proud.

***

3:28 that afternoon had Peggy approaching Mr. Nikolai's classroom.

Peeking through the glass panel in the door to see if he was there, she was pleased to see that he was. She had some questions about somatotropin and cell production. There was a test coming up, and she wanted to be sure she was still on track.

She raised her hand to knock on the door, but noted that Mr. Nikolai was unbuttoning his shirt.

It was wrong, it was stupid, but she stood there watching anyway, her hand lowering to her side. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.

It had been a hot day; it was hardly surprising that he'd be changing his shirt. It was obviously more comfortable to change into a fresh one rather than marinate in your own sweat.

Having fully undone his shirt, he took it off.

Suddenly, Mr. Nikolai's insistence on wearing long-sleeved shirts at all times made sense.

His chest, back, and arms were covered in intricate tattoos.

She knew his hands were tattooed -- that much was common knowledge at Saint George's.  The ink was faded though, and it was written off by pretty much everyone as being the residue of a previous life. Mild speculation had ensued back when he'd first arrived at the school, but had faded away in the face of more interesting gossip.

The rest of his body though: the Madonna had a home on his stomach, crosses were everywhere, and she spotted lots of text in Russian script she couldn't quite make out.

Picking up what was presumably his clean shirt  off his desk, Mr. Nikolai pulled it on and began to do it up. Peggy backed away from the door. Somatotropin could wait. She was fairly sure she had a decent enough grasp on it anyhow.

***

Catching up with the twins as they were leaving the campus, Peggy nabbed their shoulders. "We need to talk. Smoke pit, now."

This brusque, all-business manner indicated that there was something large and important going on. Both Riley and Remy knew better than to kid around or to question her when she spoke that way.

Walking back towards the campus, they slipped around to a small line of old cypress trees behind the school. It provided the perfect shield behind which students could have a quick smoke  between classes without getting caught.

Leaning against a tree, Riley took a pack of cigarettes out of her backpack -- unfiltered Lucky Strikes pilfered from her dad's desk; he knew of this, of course, and there were always some waiting for her whenever she snuck in to grab them -- and took one for herself before passing the pack around.

After each of them had one and had lit up with Peggy's lighter, Remy looked at Peggy through the thin cloud of smoke developing.

"A'ight. Talk."

 "Mr. Nikolai."

"You dragged us here to talk about Mr. Nikolai?"

"If you would be so kind as to let me elaborate?" she said warningly. Remy raised his hands in surrender, cigarette dangling lazily between his index and middle finger.

"I went to see him after classes to talk about that test we have next week," she continued. "He was changing his shirt."

Riley gave an appreciative grin. "Is it as good as we imagined?"

"He has tattoos."

"Mmmm. Even bett--"

She cut Riley off. "Strange ones. The Virgin Mary, a bird, the grim reaper, daggers, and god knows how many more. There's ridiculous amounts of Cyrillic text everywhere too. It's all over his body."

Eyes widening, then narrowing to slits, Riley spoke soberly. This had to potential to be bad. Very, very bad.

"Was there a crucified Christ on his chest?"

"Yes. Why?"

"The ink work on his hands too," Remy said, paling as he caught on to what his sister was thinking. His fingers tightened around his cigarette, and understandably so; if Riley's guess had any merit, then they were stepping into something deep.

The twins looked at one another, a conversation obviously passing between them that Peggy was not privy to. They did that on occasion, and it irritated her to no end. Even though they did a fantastic job of not making her feel like a third wheel a good ninety percent of the time, there were those occasional 'twin moments' that most certainly made her feel a little on the outside.

"Do either of you plan on explaining yourselves?"

Pulling hard at his cigarette, Remy smiled wanly. "Not so sure that'd be a good idea."

"We should get out of here," added Riley.

Dropping and squishing out their half-smoked cigarettes, the twins left, leaving an irritated Peggy behind to finish her own.

***

That night, the twins found themselves sitting in Riley's room. Her clock read 12:23. They'd tried to sleep, really, but it hadn't worked out for either of them. While their particular thoughts had differed, both were focused on exactly the same problem.

The two of them were seated on her bed: Riley up against the wall, legs crossed beneath her, Remy on the edge, kicking his bare feet at the floor. He collapsed backwards onto the bed and looked up at Riley.

"His _hands._ Why didn't we notice his hands? How the hell did we miss that?"

Leaning forward, then slamming her head back into the wall, Riley frowned.

"I don' know. I mean, we knew he had tattoos there. Gawd," she bit off. "I didn't think that _they_ came anywhere near New Orleans though, or even the States. They know whose turf it is. They know what we'd do if they were caught here. That's why we didn't think the tats meant anything." 

Remy's hands found Riley's comforter, and began twisting it.

"Think it could be a co-incidence? Maybe Peggy's wrong. Maybe she didn't see what she thought she did. Maybe we're jumpin' to conclusions."

"It's Peggy we're talking about here. What're the chances of that?"

Remy sighed, defeated. "Slim to nil. I know. Still, the crosses on his fingers. The barbed wire. We should've _seen_ that. We should've realized what they were. What they meant."

Studying her own hands, Riley rubbed at her knuckles. He was right. They should have seen it. It should have clicked, dammit. They'd been taught better. Of course now that she was thinking about them, she could visualise their teacher's hands perfectly.  Like Remy had said, there were crosses and barbed wire. There were dots and an hourglass there too, as well as something that looked like a blazing sun, and that all was just on his hands. None of these were encouraging. The idea that they'd been lazy enough, or even off guard enough, to miss that wasn't either.

"You think Dad knows?" Remy asked quietly.

She shrugged uncomfortably.  "I don't think I want to know," she answered. "If he does, then why would he want us at Saint George's? If he doesn't, then that's a whole other can of worms I don't think we should be openin'. That's assuming that Mr. Nikolai is one of _them_ in the first place _._ "

"But if the tattoos are legit..." he trailed off.

"If," Riley agreed, hopeful for a moment before delving back into worry. "If they're legit, then we're all kinds of screwed."

Remy kept twisting the comforter, considering. If. If. If. If.

That 'if' was futile and he knew it. As much as he might hope or pray, those tattoos didn't lie. If Peggy had really seen what she said she had, then they were all in serious shit.

"You know Dad'll kill us if we get in to this," Riley pointed out, though it was more resigned than concerned.

Remy smiled weakly. "Never stopped us before. We're stupid that way. Plus, he's kinda across the country right now. Not much he can do from there."

"This is kinda bigger than messin' with the Assassins."

"This is Peggy though. If she's gotten herself in to this, then someone's gotta get her out."

Both sighed, and it could only be described as beaten. It was the truth and they knew it.

 _This is Peggy,_ Remy had said, leaving out the great unspoken between them in silent agreement that it was not the time to bicker. The unspoken was a given. This was Peggy, and that was important.

"Alright. I'll call her."

"The Roadrunner is a 24/7 joint," Remy supplied. "We can meet there."

***

Fifteen minutes later had the three of them sitting in a booth in an all but empty diner. It wasn't a dive at all -- the place was clean and well cared for --  even though it was showing signs of age. Both twins clutched warm mugs (Riley's contained black coffee, Remy was drinking what was essentially sugar-cream touched with a little decaf) and maintaining remarkably disaffected expressions.

Peggy stirred some honey into her cup of tea. "You're willing to help me, then."

"If we're going to be in on this, if we're gonna help you, there's three rules," Riley said, counting them off on her fingers. "One, you don't ask us how we know what we do. Two, you don't try to find out how we know what we do. Three, you trust that everything we tell you's true, 'cause it is."

"Cryptic. That's not like you, Riley."

It was all but a foregone conclusion that they were going to get involved based on their conversation back in Riley's room, but Riley and Remy looked at Peggy in silence, waiting.

"Alright," she said. "I can live with those restrictions, strange as they are."

The twins relaxed visibly. Thank God.

Sipping delicately at her tea, Peggy's glance shifted between Riley and Remy. "I suppose we should begin with the tattoos then."

Remy slid a paper napkin to her. "Can y'draw 'em?"

Pulling a pen from her purse, Peggy began to sketch. Riley and Remy's eyes widened as her drawings grew more and more detailed. She unfolded the napkin and drew more.

"Oh, fuck me," Remy whispered as she set down the pen.

Peggy started pointing to the drawings, one by one. "This one was on his upper back. This was on his stomach."

She continued through all of them in the same manner. The increasingly haunted looks on Riley and Remy's face were worrying.

"I don't know if I got them all," she finished, almost apologetic. "And I'm a little uncertain if these are all completely right, but it's what I remember. Do these mean anything to you?"

"They're Russian prison tattoos," Riley murmured, almost forgetting her coffee in the wake of the images before her. "That crucifix y'saw on his chest means he's considered a prince of thieves."

 Remy pointed to each of the drawings in turn, a reflection of Peggy's actions as he went on with the process of translation. The first one he indicated was the one that Peggy had said was on Mr. Nikolai's back -- a church, complete with three domes.

"These copulas mean time in prison. Three copulas, three stints." Next, he pointed to the stars that Peggy had said were on his collar bones. "These mean he's a bigshot. They don't just give these away."

"If you got even half of these right," Riley said, going even more quiet, "then we got us a serious problem. Mr. Nikolai _..._ looks like he's _vory v zakone._ _"_

"Russian mob," Peggy nodded, noting their surprise at her recognition of the term. The twins apparently had their own secrets and knowledge. She had hers. Peggy looked over the illustrations once more, fingers drumming on the table. Frowning, she looked back at her friends.

"Why would a representative of the Russian mob be here in New Orleans? At our school of all places? And posing as a _biology_ teacher at that?"

"Those're good questions," Riley mused, looking at Peggy askance. "Real good questions."

***

Biology the next day was, needless to say, difficult to get through.

The three of them sat there at their shared table looking to the front of the classroom where Mr. Nikolai gave a lesson as though nothing was different at all. Of course, nothing was. Riley, Remy, and Peggy were just more aware of the status quo.

"HGM -- human growth hormone -- is strange thing. It is still a mystery, very complex. We don't know everything it is capable of."

Three sets of grit teeth tightened a little more, and three pairs of hands became fists at the words.

***

Lunch fell right after Biology, thankfully.

Seated, lunches hardly touched, the three teens looked at one another.

"We need to follow him," Peggy said, and both Riley and Remy started at the proclamation. Poking listlessly at the soggy fries he'd bought from the cafeteria, Remy raised an eyebrow. "Wanna share your logic with the rest of th'class?"

"If he is who his tattoos say he is, then there's a definite problem. You have to concede that much."

"Well, yeah."

"And do you honestly think we'd be believed if we said anything?"

Remy went quiet, thinking to himself. The first lesson that his dad had ever taught him was that if something didn't feel right, it probably wasn't, and there wasn't any shame in taking matters into your own hands so long as you played it clean. Typical LeBeau family wisdom.

Firstly, Peggy was right. No-one was going to listen to or believe three teens claiming their teacher was a gangster. Who the hell outside the criminal world would understand the tattoos? No way any American cops would be able to translate them.  Could they even say anything without him and Riley revealing their own criminal pedigree, which either wouldn't be believed or would manage to go and make the whole thing worse?

Secondly, there was the fact that their dad wasn't there to talk to -- and seeing as he was Jean-Luc LeBeau, you didn't contact him, even if you were his kids. Jean-Luc LeBeau contacted _you_.

They weren't left with a whole lot of options. Their own hands it was, then.

Riley was thinking along far different lines. "So what, we go play plucky teen detectives?"

"If you got a better idea," Remy said shortly, determining that he was up for it regardless of what his sister decided.

 Leaning back over the back of her crappy plastic chair, Riley breathed out. She was considering her options, trying to order her thoughts. This shit kept getting bigger and bigger, and there were far too many questions circling in her head. Consideration wasn't helping, because it was mainly centering around all the numerous possible outcomes. Pessimism was winning out, and the worst possible was coming to the forefront of her thoughts.

"What good is trackin' him gonna be?" she asked. "Peggy's right. No-one's gonna give a damn about what we got to say. Wouldn't it be smarter to stay the hell away from this?"

"He's _vory v zakone,_ " Remy replied. "That ain't reason enough to at least check him out?"

Remy looked back to Peggy.

"If you wanna drive Riley home tomorrow, I can tail Mr. Nikolai when he's leavin' school. He doesn't know what kinda car I have, so I can follow him easy."

"Call me afterwards then, and we can make further plans," said Peggy.

Both of them then turned their attention to Riley.

"Riley?" Remy said, nudging her. "You in?"

A slow, but genuine, grin spread across her face. If they were going to risk raising all hell, no way she was getting left behind. She leaned back even further in her chair to stretch her arms out lazily.

"Lookin' before you leap's for losers anyways."

***

Waiting was not a chore for Remy; the process of reconnaissance was something he enjoyed. He could exercise an incredible amount of patience when he tried. Riley even more so, but he had picked the skill up first and faster. So he waited, checking his watch on occasion and thanking God for tinted windows for neither the first nor the last time.

When Mr. Nikolai eventually exited the school, Remy waited for him to get into a car.

He didn't.

Mr. Nikolai walked down the street instead, sporting sunglasses and clutching a briefcase that was presumably filled with assignments to be marked.

He waited to see if the teacher had perhaps parked on the street, and was headed to a car there. The answer to this was no. Mr. Nikolai just kept walking.

Starting the car, Remy pulled out of the lot and followed. The car was probably insanely obvious, but it beat following the man on foot where he would be fully visible.

As soon as he started to worry that maybe his presence was growing obvious enough for him to pull the plug and get out of there, Mr. Nikolai walked up the front steps of one of the condominiums that formed an repetitive, anonymous strip along the street. He was surprised at how close Mr. Nikolai lived to the school. Residing four blocks away from your place of work was practical, but in this case felt...wrong. The specifics of this could be worked out later though. He had an address, which brought them one step closer to figuring out what the hell was going on, and that was something.

A minute's drive later had him parking the car outside an apartment building. Pulling his cell out of his backpack, he texted Peggy.

_School. Tonight. 10:30._

***

Riley and Remy arrived at the school at 10:26. They'd caught the bus, seeing as they were hesitant to bring the car anywhere near Mr. Nikolai's house again. Remy didn't want to push their luck on the off chance that the man would recognize it. He wouldn't normally worry, but since they were dealing with the _vory v zakone,_ even if it was just one of them (though as he and Riley both knew, where there was one vory, there were others more often than not), it seemed wise to take the precaution.

Peggy was there waiting for them, leaning against one of the streetlamps. "Ready then?"

"Stupid question, girl," Riley smiled. "We're here, ain't we?"

"Alright. Lay on, Macduff."

The three traipsed along the road without a word until Remy pointed to the condo. They were still a few doors down, which meant they were still out of sight.

"That tree," Peggy whispered, pointing to a tall, sturdy one in the yard next to Mr. Nikolai's house. "We could hide in it."

Riley squinted. "View of his main window, lots of leaves, perfect cover. Good call."

"He shouldn't be able to see us climbing up there either," Remy agreed. "The tree thing's kinda cliché, but it'll work."

Boosting one another into the tree and on to a sturdy limb, they settled in and watched that main window. Enough light was pouring out from it that they could see Mr. Nikolai sitting at a table with a pen scratching across a stack of papers.

"So what should we be watching for, precisely?"

"This is preliminary recon," Riley said. "We figure out his habits: what he does, where he goes, and we piece it together from there."

"So we'll have to keep doing this for a little while yet."

It was an observation, not dismay. Peggy was fine with continuing this in whatever way the twins thought best, seeing as they looked rather like experts in this area. Everything about Mr. Nikolai and what surrounded him was enough to not only concern her, but pique her interest as well. Perhaps her imagination was a little more morbid than she'd thought.

Mr. Nikolai rose from his table, cracked his neck side to side, and exited the room. Riley continued, her voice low.

"It'll take a little time, yeah, but we'll figure this out. Patience is a virtue and all that."

They sat there in silence.

Remy scrutinized the outside of the place, looking for anything that would give away something. Except for the lack of vehicle that he'd already been aware of, there was very little that distinguished the place from the others around it. What stood out was the lack of blinking red lights or any digital panels of any sort  -- no security system at all. He was unsure if he found this bizarre or not.

Peggy tried to get a closer look at the papers. The table was close enough to the window that she could make them out, albeit only vaguely. They were worksheets. Mr. Nikolai had been marking. Perfectly innocuous. It came across as incredibly strange given what she'd come to know of him. The facade of teacher, now torn down, felt wrong to her.

Riley was cataloguing the furniture, brow furrowed. It seemed too plain. It could have been that Mr. Nikolai just lived simply, but it still struck her as being odd. No-one, not even the most spartan sort, furnished a place like that. She suspected the place was a crash pad, not a home; a cheap, easily abandoned place serving to be functional enough for survival and nothing more.

Ten minutes later, nothing had happened. Mr. Nikolai hadn't come back to the room. It was safe guess that he had gone to bed.

"We can probably leave. I don't think we're going to see anything more tonight," Peggy murmured.

"Hold up," Remy whispered harshly, raising a hand for quiet. "Something's--"

His notice came too late, for which he kicked himself. Yet another thing that dad would have been ashamed of: first the tattoos, now missing the presence of another person.

There, looking right at them, was Mr. Nikolai.

The wife beater he wore was a thin one, and so they could not only see the tattoos on his arms but make out the ones on his body as well.  It was worse than either of the twins had imagined. Peggy had been right on with the images she'd recalled, and there were even more than that. By his ink, Mr. Nikolai was the right hand to the head of the _vorys_. The revelation had the power of a detonated cluster bomb.

"Prince and Princess of Thieves," he said, mild as ever. "It is an honour."

The twins froze. If things had been bad before, they'd just officially gone to hell. They'd been spotted. Not just that, they'd been _made._

Peggy arched an eyebrow despite herself and despite the rather dire situation. Prince and Princess? That was certainly news.

Mr. Nikolai looked over to her.

"I would say it is good to see you too, Miss Carter, but I am not a liar. I am more curious."

What happened next happened very quickly. It was instinct, pure and simple.

With a swift drop to the ground and a sweep kick, Riley hoped for the best. It didn't bring Mr. Nikolai down but did serve to get him a little off balance. She was able to make a quick dash away.

Remy launched himself down seconds after, grasping the tree limb and swinging hard to plant a firm kick into Mr. Nikolai's chest. Further off balance, though by very little, he wind-milled slightly as Remy dodged under his arm and tore after his sister.

It was Peggy who  delivered the closest thing to a critical hit. Jumping down, she landed in a crouch and threw herself up and towards his  face to deliver a sharp palm strike powered by her body's upward momentum.  Again, it was nowhere near enough to bring Mr. Nikolai down, but it bought her the time she needed to get away.

"Move!" Remy screamed as the three sprinted down the street.

All Riley could think of was getting out of there. Pulling her sleeve down over her hand, she made a dash for an older model  car and put her fist through the window before pulling up the lock and opening the door. Remy threw back the front seat, shoving Peggy into the back and getting in beside her. Slamming the seat back into position, Riley sat down in it and ripped open the panel beneath the steering column. Yanking  violently at wires, she pulled them apart, muttering to herself.

"Faster'd be great, Riley," Remy hissed.

"I'm fuckin' _working_ on it," she snapped back, stripping one set of wires with her fingernails before twisting them together.  Pulling two more wires, she touched them together and the car came to life.

Shifting the car into gear, she tore out of there.

It took a second and a few steadying breaths, but Peggy collected herself quite well. "What on God's green earth just happened?"

"Remember those three rules?" Riley said, taking a corner at what was most certainly an unsafe speed. "I think we're gonna have to break them."

Remy bit his lip, eyes locked with an expectant Peggy.

"I'm waiting," she said archly. Shifting so he could buckle himself in and look up at the roof of the car, Remy relented. Riley was right -- it was time to clear some things up.

"You know about the Guilds?"

"Of course. The two crime syndicates based here in Louisiana. Thieves and Assassins."

Neither twin felt the need to ask how the hell she'd known that.  Precious few knew about the Guilds -- it was a point of pride that they remained shrouded in mystery, and were more a rumour than anything else, _if_ that -- but at this point the amount that would shock them was growing less and less.

"Our dad's kinda the...the Patriarch. The King of the Thieves Guild."

She nodded, the pieces coming together for her. "Hence the Prince and Princess of Thieves."

"Yeah."

Riley took a sharp turn onto a highway, the car picking up even more speed to fit the flow of traffic. "We're next in line t'lead the Guild once Dad steps down. Officially, we're called _Le Voleur_ and _La Voleuse_."

"That explains quite a bit, actually."

This induced a furrowed set of eyebrows on Remy's part. Riley was too focused on driving to look behind her, only glancing into the rear view mirror to see if they were being followed.

"You know a lot. And you're takin' this...pretty well." Remy sounded more confused than anything.

"You two aren't the only ones with secrets, you know," Peggy said, with a surprisingly timed (albeit sad) smile.  It was time for her to do some revealing as well. "Why do you think I've never told you two why I'm going to school here in the States when there are plenty of good ones back in the United Kingdom?"

"You did tell us. Your parents work at the British Consolate, right? Like, record keepers or somethin'."

"In the interests of full disclosure, seeing as that's the game we appear to be playing, yes and no. They're British Intelligence."

"Great," Riley said, her tone suggesting that if she weren't driving, she'd be throwing up her hands in an overwrought display of defeat. "British Intelligence. We're sleepin' with the enemy."

Peggy's reply was sharp, though quite possibly amused. "Last I was aware, neither of you has made it that far."

Remy's smile and response were both dry. "There was that one time --"

"Doesn't count."

Riley gave a strained chuckle.

"And _that_ time hardly counts either, Riley."

***

Back at the Roadrunner, coffees and tea before them, the three sat in ponderous silence. A few starts at conversation fell apart until Riley thumped lightly at the table.

"That was too easy," she said. "He _let_ us go. We might've gotten away, might even have hit him pretty good, but no way that was totally clean. He should have followed us. This is all wrong."

There was a nod from Peggy. "He should have fought back too. You're right; something is off."

Remy was stirring his coffee. "I'm still stuck on the fact that the _vorys_ are on Guild turf."

"And my parents -- likely the entire representation of the British government here as well -- are overlooking Mr. Nikolai's presence here."

Pouring one more packet of sugar into his 'coffee' , Remy frowned.  "Why would Brits care about Mr. Nikolai, or the _vorys?_ He's Russian. His accent's Siberian."

"North Siberian," Peggy corrected absently (Riley frowned at the level of specificity), unsurprised that Remy could peg accents. After what they'd told her about their background, and what assumptions she had made based on that, she was similar to the twins in that there was  very little that would. "Look at his spelling on the chalkboard and on our tests and worksheets."

"All those frigging 'u's. British spelling." Riley looked down at her mug and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. It didn't make for an especially flattering reflection in the dark surface of her coffee. "Maybe should get the Guild involved. Officially."

It was a viable option. The Guild members currently in New Orleans would answer to _La Voleur_ and _La Voleuse,_ especially since the Patriarch was busy elsewhere. The twins did hold some semblance of power in their father's absence. The Guild members might not be thrilled, but they would listen.

"Not sure Dad'd appreciate us getting the Guild involved in an all-out war."

Riley nodded miserably, pulling a face. "Not the best homecomin' present. Yeah." She blew out a soft breath. "But something's still bugging me."

"What's that?"

"The Guild's gotta know he's here. A _vory_ that close to steppin' on Guild toes? No way they don't."

"So why aren't they making any moves?"

"Exactly. Even the Assassins would play ball with us if anyone started movin' in like this. We'd do the United Guild thing, take 'em out, and go back to our sandboxes. No-one's said a word on either side. Something's really not right."

 "We can't go to the Guild then," Remy said, a little stricken. It was one thing to face opposition by yourself. The twins had taken on all kinds of shit without help, and he was just fine taking care of business alone. It was another completely to take something on aware that the people who were supposed to have your back knew what you were up against, and had neither said nor done anything.

Peggy pursed her lips.

The idea came to her in one of those bolts of inspiration. If the twins couldn't bring in a cavalry to charge forward, why couldn't she sneak them in through the back? At the very least, there was a chance she could get the three of them a little closer to the truth. It would be difficult, but certainly not impossible.

The twins' resources were limited to only their individual skills now. That, combined with what she could offer...it was almost mad enough to work.

"What would your thoughts on breaking in to a British Consulate be?"

"What?" the twins asked in synchronicity.

"If he's British, or came through the UK at all, then there's going to be records of his presence here in the States at the Consulate. It also seems to me that you two would be the ideal pair to help me do so."

Remy sucked back some of his coffee. "We want the truth, we gotta get it for ourselves."

"Exactly."

"We gotta be absolutely certifiable," Riley sighed. "All of us."

There were murmurs of agreement that served as yeses all around.


	2. Chapter 2

The twins passed themselves off as sick the next morning. No way they could go back to St. George's after what had happened.

"Probably that flu goin' round school," Riley said at breakfast, wrapped in a thick blanket for effect. Remy aped fever shakes, not saying a word.

Tante Mattie looked at them sideways as she doled out fresh, hot porridge for the two of them.

"Eat up," she ordered while shoving a bowl towards each of them.

Obliging, they kept up their charade underneath Mattie's particularly heavy scrutiny. Their apparent recent trouble with oversight aside, they were very good actors. Mattie always seemed to know though, and she was probably fully aware of their bullshit. It was all that Remy and Riley could do to hope she wasn't going to call them on it.

"You wanna stay home then," she asked, leaning over the counter and locking eyes with each of them in turn.

"Yeah," Remy said weakly between two mouthfuls. "Don' wanna give this t'anyone else, y'know?"

"And I suppose you wanna be left home alone."

"Don' wanna be a bother or anything. Just rest."

If it were possible, Mattie looked at them even more sideways.

Riley clutched at the Saint Nicholas medallion around her neck -- a present from her dad on her twelfth birthday after she'd completed her Tilling -- with one hand. The act hidden by her blanket, she was internally screaming prayers to the patron saint of thieves.

Remy hunched over a little more. He wore a matching medallion and watched its reflection in the concave side of his spoon. His desperate prayer was similar to his sister's, though contained rather more profanity. Strange for a prayer, certainly, but Remy wanted the gravity of the situation made clear.

"I got errands in town anyhow," Mattie finally said. "And I was thinkin' about spending the night at my sister's. I imagine you two should be fine on your own until tomorrow afternoon, hmm?"

They nodded as eagerly as flu-stricken teens would have been able to, and Mattie nodded back in acquiescence. They'd just been granted the time to pull off their plan. Good.

Remy would have made the sign of the cross, but thought better of it. Riley determined she was going to drop a twenty in the collection plate next time Dad dragged her to church.

As always, it was more than likely that Mattie had guessed what was going on, even if only in generalities. She would have been terrifying that way were it not for the fact she would never say a word...though it was arguable that her silence was even worse.

"You keep out of trouble, y'hear?" Her voice was dry. "No tellin' what might make the flu worse."

"Yes'm," the twins said, turning their full attention to their porridge.

***

Peggy passed herself off as sick the next day as well. Her parents didn't even really require convincing; once she'd gotten home from the Roadrunner, she'd written a note to them saying she wasn't well and that she'd be staying home from school. Leaving it on the kitchen counter, she'd gone to bed and slept lightly.

Her parents, who left early in the morning and came home late, had simply scrawled a brief response beneath her own words:

_There's some fresh orange juice and some chicken soup in the fridge. We'll try and be home early tonight, promise. Feel better soon, sweetheart._

Typical Mr. and Mrs. Carter behaviour. Peggy loved her parents, she truly did, and they certainly loved her, but they didn't spend a good deal of time at home. They were considerate and caring, of course -- why else would they have ensured there was juice and soup waiting for her? -- but weren't exactly a large presence in her life.

Enjoying some of the orange juice, she texted Riley.

_All clear here. Coming?_

Her phone buzzed a few minutes later.

_Be there in fifteen._

Satisfied, she fixed herself some granola and chewed thoughtfully on an apple. What they were about to undertake would prove interesting at the very least. Dangerous, too. It was anyone's guess how badly it might go and how fatal it might possibly prove if they were to be caught. She'd heard stories from her parents. Vague ones. They were still clear enough for her to understand that 'unfortunate disappearances' did, on occasion, happen, and she was smart enough not to inquire any further.  Peggy found herself less concerned about this than she logically ought to have been.

Tossing her apple core into the rubbish bin at the sound of the doorbell, she went and let the twins in.

"I brought donuts," Remy said, brandishing a Dunkin' Donuts box.

"How considerate."

Riley took the opportunity to glare at her brother. "It's why we took twenty minutes 'stead of fifteen."

"Why're you whining? I paid for 'em. And I even got one of those sprinkley ones you like."

"Clearly, y'r the best sibling ever."

"Shall we?" Peggy interrupted.

Sufficiently cowed, at least for the time being, they followed Peggy up into her room. She took a large, folded piece of paper off her desk, and sat down on the floor. Remy flopped down to one side of her, opening up the box of donuts and passing one with multi-coloured sprinkles to Riley. He passed a glazed cruller to Peggy, and took a chocolate one for himself.

Unfolding the paper and spreading it out on the floor, Peggy began to explain herself in a matter-of-fact manner after a generous bite of her donut.

"This is the layout of the consulate."

It was sketched out neatly, and labeled in Peggy's scrawl. Remy traced a finger along the edges of what was identified as the second floor.

"How accurate would y'say this is?"

"Perfectly so. I copied it off the map that consulate staff use, not the one they hand out to the people passing through."

Plopping herself down on the floor on the other side of Peggy, Riley pointed at the top floor.

"Okay," she started. "There any skylights here? 'Cause--"

Peggy didn't let her finish, shifting the paper and pointing towards the first floor. More specifically, she indicated a door drawn on the south side of the building

"This back way isn't typically used," she explained. "It's a service entrance, but there's  been a new one set up on the east side that's used more often than not. It's closer to the staff parking lot, so everyone prefers it. This old one hasn't been abandoned, but it still has a keypad style lock. You need an entry code to open it."

Riley waved her hand dismissively. "Cake.  What next?"

"We can go up the stairwell to the third floor and then down this back hall here. There's a window at the end of the corridor. It opens to a fire escape. To the left is a window. It's a jump -- about a metre and three quarters."

The twins looked at her blankly for a moment.

"Six feet," she clarified. She received a brief _aaaah_ before bothering to continue _._

"The fire exit leads into a different corridor. Third door on the left is the main records room. It's locked up tight, but it's where they keep files. Most of the data is stored on CDs. There's some hard-copy things kept there too. Not much, but some. I know a couple of the women who work in the records department, and I can tell you they're meticulous about organization, labeling and the like to the point of obsession. It should be easy to find anything once we make it in."

"Sounds solid t'me," Riley said, licking icing off one of her fingers. "But when d'you think we can get in?"

"Each Wednesday afternoon is a consulate wide conference. Almost everyone is at these meetings, except for a few low level employees."

"Today then. Awesome. So what kind of openin' we looking at?"

"The meetings run three o'clock to four. Occasionally they go late, but I wouldn't count on it."

There was a contemplative silence, eventually broken by Remy. "Peggy, how do you know all this stuff?"

She cocked her head sideways as though considering an answer. When she spoke, it was wry, though soft. "You spend enough time wandering around in there on weekends hoping to run into your parents, you learn a few things. You listen to consulate employees talk when they don't think you're listening, you pick up even more."

"You'd've made a damn good Thief," Riley observed. "Different circumstances, I'd've put you forward to Dad."

Remy gave a wan smile as he swallowed the last of his donut. "I'd've seconded you."

***

They left the car a good five blocks away. A small group of teens walking down the street past a consulate wouldn't rouse nearly as much suspicion as a group of teens parking near the consulate. Casting only the slightest of glances around them once they'd made it to their destination, they vanished behind the building and went to the back door they'd determined would be their entry. Remy unconsciously took up point, staying a few steps behind the girls and scanning everything and everywhere. No way in hell was he going to make yet another amateur mistake.

Riley lifted up the panel with an elbow (the better to avoid leaving any fingerprints with), and scrutinized the revealed buttons. It was a typical nine key set-up, looking exactly like a phone's, complete with three letters embossed under each number on the keypad.

"I know this model. Nine digit entry code," she announced. Pulling a compact out of her purse, she opened it and blew across the powder there. The light dust settled on the buttons, and an overlapping mess of fingerprint ridges became visible.

"Talcum powder," she explained to Peggy, snapping the compact shut. "Easy to get, easy to use, and easy to make disappear."

Craning her neck and muttering, she examined the panel intently, switching angles every couple seconds. It wasn't long before she burst out laughing before blowing at the panel once more, sending the talcum powder dancing off into the ether.

"Britannia," she explained to her evidently confused companions, still snickering as she punched at the buttons in sequence using the knuckle of her right index finger. "The code's 2-7-4-8-2-6-6-4-2. Spells out Britannia."

***

The three climbed up the back stairwell, leery. Remy's sneakers made no noise, and the boots Riley wore were silent. The faint padding of Peggy's flats, as well as the hushed sounds of everyone's breathing, were all that could be heard. Finally reaching the third floor, Peggy cracked the door open and took a peek into the corridor.

"Empty," she called back to Remy and Riley, though softly. Moving down the hall as quietly as possible, they were all but home free. The window was only feet away.

Then came the footsteps. The twins froze.

Peggy didn't even have to warn them to hide. They simply faded into shadows that might not even have existed as the footsteps came around the corner. Remy was pleased with this much: he and Riley hadn't lost their 'touch' completely. It was further proof that they really weren't amateurs, and truly were _La Voleur et La Voleuse_ after all _._

"Miss Carter," a voice said. Male, older, the tone lying somewhere between cordial and concerned. "What brings you here today?"  
"Here to see my parents, sir."

"They're in a meeting, my dear. And I was given to believe you were ill."

"Yes sir. I wanted to let them know I was able to make an appointment with the doctor. My mobile is dead, so I wanted to let them know they needn't worry if I wasn't home when they were."

"You might have called from home."

"I brought their suppers as well," she said, shifting the backpack she was wearing and gesturing to it. "They left them at home. I thought since it was on the way to the doctor's, it would be best for me to bring their food here. It just happens to work out that I'll be able to tell them about my appointment in person as well."

"They'll be a while."

She feigned disappointment. "Oh. A shame. Are either of their offices open? I can leave their food and a note."

"They should be. Let me know if you need me to unlock them -- I'll be in the second floor lounge."

"Thank you sir."

"Take care, Miss Carter."

"Yourself as well."

The voice gave way to footsteps once more, and as soon as they were gone, the twins reappeared.

"I'm gonna take back what I said before," Riley said admiringly. "I think I actually will put you forward to Dad."

***

The window at the end of the corridor was stiff and squeaky, which normally would have been a problem. Seeing as no-one was there to hear the noise though, there was no need to lubricate it in any way.  Climbing through once it was open was easy as it was quite large. The fire escape landing, however, was not -- it had barely enough room for the three of them to stand.

Peggy yanked the window closed behind them, and turned to her fellow criminals. Riley was looking down to the street as Remy looked to the sill of the window that was their next stop. It was broad enough to stand on, but not much more.

"Wall's too smooth to spider across," he said. "Nowhere to grip."

Peggy frowned. "So how will we do this then?"

Remy had climbed up onto the railing before she'd even finished her question.

"Six feet ain't far," Riley grinned.

With that, Remy jumped from the banister to the sill, landing neatly. He tested the window and found it opened with no trouble at all. One more point in their favour, he thought to himself as he climbed inside.  Riley followed his lead, the jump coming just as easily to her as it had to her brother.  She landed in a low crouch, then stood up and turned around.

"Your turn," she called over to Peggy.

Peggy was a little reticent. It was six feet, yes, and Riley had been right when she'd stated that such a distance wasn't far, but it was also three stories up. Taking a deep breath, Peggy got up on to the banister, spreading her hands to stay somewhat balanced.

Remy's head was poking out of the window.

"Bend your knees a bit, and keep your arms a little lower."

She followed his advice, and found her balanced improved enough to be noticeable.

"Now jump," Riley said. "I gotcha here."

One more breath taken in, Peggy launched herself over.  Riley's strong arms caught her as she  threatened to fall off the ledge.

"Easy," she said, smiling as she backed up a couple tiny steps, still keeping Peggy in her arms. "You're good. You're fine."

While Peggy didn't need the reassurance (she'd made it  on her own, she was unscathed, and even with the teetering all she needed was the chance to stand on something a little more solid), she bobbed her head in recognition anyhow.  

"After you," Riley laughed, letting her go and backing up a couple steps to give Peggy room to slip back inside the building, where Remy was offering a hand to help her in.

***

"This is the door," Peggy said, pointing and then taking a step back. Getting them inside the room was obviously more the twins' department than hers.

"Two key entry," Remy said, crouching to look at the two keyholes. "Just a hair better than a keycard."

Riley snorted. "All the better to get in with. No keycard, no digital record we were ever here."

"Once we are in, accessing any information could be just as good as setting off an alarm," Peggy reminded them. The twins nodded, but looked beyond hearing. Remy's mouth twisted as he turned to look at his sister, now looking at the locks herself.

"Double pop?"

Riley pulled a couple bobby pins out of her hair and passed one off to her brother.  Remy stayed crouched, playing the lower keyhole. Leaning over her brother, Riley toyed  with the upper one.

"Come on," Remy whispered, though perhaps 'crooned' would have been a better word. "On my mark."

The two went still, Remy counted down from three, and their hands twisted in precise, sharp movements.

A tell-tale click cut through the air, and Remy pushed the door open while rising to his full height once more. "Ladies first."

"You'll have to teach me how to do that once this is all over," Peggy said, following Riley in.

"We make it out, you got a deal."

"Alright," Riley said, taking a look around the room. "Let's do this."

***

The room's set up was nothing extraordinary. Three computer terminals and scads of labeled filing cabinets were organized in a perfectly utilitarian manner. The filing cabinets were specially designed ones, their insides set up to hold jewel cases.

Finding the 'N' section, they scanned through the laser-printed labels on the cases, all set up in the traditional last name comma first pattern. Remy was bordering on incredulous, but was more curious than anything.

"There's one o'these for every single person from the UK who comes through here?"

"Big Brother is watching," Peggy said offhandedly.

"Here," Riley said, pointing. "Nikolai."

Pulling a handkerchief out of her purse, she grabbed all eight discs with the name 'Nikolai' on them.

"How do we fool the computer though?" Remy asked, looking to Riley as she set the discs down next to one of the terminals. "Peggy was right. We get caught accessing it, we get toasted."

Riley shrugged. "I could crack it, but I'd need time."

Peggy rolled her eyes as she approached the terminal herself. "One of the women who works here in the archives is entirely uncreative when it comes to passwords."

Inputting the username _andrea.miller_ and the password _passwordprotected2012,_ the computer gave a whirr and opened up a traditional Microsoft Windows style desktop.

"It also helps that Andrea keeps sticky notes with passwords and the like on the walls of her cubicle," Peggy said with a certain satisfaction.

The twins looked uneasy. Riley glanced back to the door. "But if it shows she was here when she was supposed to be at a meeting--"

"She doesn't go to them. She stays by her desk to watch the phones and run errands. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that she'd come here to get some information."

Opening the first jewel case, careful not to allow the pads of her fingers to touch anywhere they might leave an imprint, Peggy took out  the disc and popped it into the computer.

***

The insertion of each disc brought up a large profile of the individual whose information was stored on it. The first thing to be seen was a photograph and basic information:  date of birth, weight, height, the basics. There was obviously more stored on the discs than that --  travel histories, scans of birth certificates, and various other tidbits were there to look at were one so inclined.

Ruling out the first six discs was easy. None of the photographs were of Mr. Nikolai. The seventh, however, with the label _Nikolai, Vitaly,_ brought up a familiar face. This much wasn't a surprise. What came as a surprise was what happened when Peggy tried to open up further information on the man.

 _Access Denied,_ the computer informed them. _Clearance required from R and K._

"What the ever loving--" Remy started, but switched the tack he was going to take. "We're done here, I think."

Riley agreed. "We ain't gonna get anything else from this disc here, and I don't have the time to crack it. We can't take it either. None of the others had security on 'em like this, and smart money says  that means they'll miss it if it's gone."

Peggy offered no argument. She already had an idea of her next step, but kept it to herself as Riley put all the discs back.

***

It was two in the morning when Mr. and Mrs. Carter finally came home.

They were met by Peggy, who had prepared the table with three mugs of tea. Her timing was eerily good: they were still steaming.

"Darling?" Mr. Carter said uneasily. "What's going on?"

"We need to talk about my teacher, Mr. Nikolai," she said, locking eyes with her parents and gesturing towards the tea. Her parents tensed.

"What do you mean, Peggy?" her mother asked as she sat down, circling her hands all the way around her mug and gripping tight.

"I know he's mafia. I can guess that he's tied in with British intelligence somehow, and in a very deep way. Who are R and K?"

Her parents looked to one another, and it was as good as an answer.

"So you're connected to him. Which means you're even deeper in British Intelligence than you've let on."

Mr. Carter finally sat down. "How on earth did you find out about this?"

"You have your secrets, it would seem, and I have mine."

It felt a little odd to be going on the offensive with her parents in this manner. She was a teenager, of course, so she wasn't a stranger to doing so. It was the fact that it was over government secrets and mafia politics that made this particular 'attack' different.

"Seeing as we're discussing secrets, you must know we can't tell you anything."

"It's a little late for that. He knows that I know."

Her parents blanched.

"How _much_ does he know?" her father's tone had grown significantly more pointed.

Peggy considered. How much should she share?  Riley and Remy had secrets that needed protecting as well. She didn't want to harm her friends, but she wasn't about to all-out lie.

"He just knows that I'm aware he's _vory v zakone_. I saw his tattoos. I'd done some research on them for a project, recognized what some of them meant, and he found out."

"Does anybody else know?" her mother asked.

"The LeBeaus," she said. "Remy and Riley. That's all."

"The LeBeaus," her mother repeated, and Peggy would have sworn to whatever you'd like that both of her parents relaxed.

"What?" she demanded. "What do the LeBeaus have to do with anything?"

"Peggy, dear, have you ever heard of MI6?"

***

Remy and Riley had decided once they'd gotten home that there was nothing for it but to ask their father to fill in some blanks for them.

_(Mattie had just nodded at them as she had walked back into the house._

_"How're you two feelin'? Better?"_

_"Little bit."_

_"Rest. You'll feel better t'night.")_

The fact that their dad came home a few hours later was just a sign they were right to think so.

"Papa, can we talk?" Riley asked, sitting down next to him once they'd eaten dinner, finished the dishes, and had the kitchen to themselves.

"'Course. What about?"

She looked to Remy, who licked his lips. "What do you know about Mr. Nikolai?"

"And what are the _vorys_ doin' here in Guild territory?"

Jean-Luc rubbed his forehead and leaned forward to brace his elbows against the table. "I was hopin' to keep you two out of this. "

For a second, Remy thought his father was about to cry. This evaporated instantly when he realized that his father was stifling a laugh. "Should've known you two'd pick up on it sooner rather than later," he said. "I keep forgettin' you're both eighteen now. Now that I'm thinkin' on it, I probably should've had you in on it from the start."

Riley wasn't sure if she was sporting a smile or a grimace. "Don't give us too much credit, Papa. We made a shitton of mistakes along the way."

"You're still around, which means y'did something right."

There was no uncertainty now. Riley's eyes were wide open in surprise. Remy wore a very similar expression. "This whole thing's that big?"

"It ain't a Sunday stroll." He breathed out heavily. "A'right. What do y'know and what do y'want to? No point in me repeating what you've already figured for yourselves."

Riley shrugged. "Mr. Nikolai's a high ranking _vory,_ he's British, and he knows we're Guild. Thieves' Guild."

Their father's face went stone cold. "He touch either o'you? Do _anything_ to you?"

Taken aback, Remy shook his head. "No. No, nothing."

Jean-Luc looked to be calmed by this answer. "Good. That's good."

"Papa, what's goin' on?"

He looked at his kids, face softening, but he was wearing an almost mischievous grin that his adopted children had obviously inherited from him. "We made a couple arrangements with the _vorys_."

***

The next morning, the three blew off school yet again for breakfast and debriefing at the Roadrunner.

Surrounded by eggs, bacon, coffee, and tea, they shared their stories.

"'Parently," Remy began, mouth full, "the _vorys_ got an interest in eliminating th'Assassins."

Riley continued. "The Assassins don't have a great rep in the UK, but the Thieves do. They made a proposition to Dad and the rest of the Guild -- protection from the Thieves in exchange for eliminatin' some competition."

"They weren't looking to do any actual killing. Just some intel-feedin', to us and to the _vorys_ back in London. Mr. Nikolai came to be a plant in the Assassins."

"So the Thieves watch his back, and he gives the Guild and the _vorys_ info he picks up. We deal with them here, they take 'em out there."

 "So why at St. George's?" Peggy asked. "Why a teacher?"

Riley swished the last dregs of her coffee around in the bottom of her cup. "'Cause it's where all the Guild kids go, Thieves and Assassins both. Links him in to the 'next generation', and gives him ties to the powers that be right now."

Peggy nodded, following the lines that had been drawn. Curiouser and curiouser.

"That makes a sort of sense, I suppose. I'm about to make it more complicated though," she said.

The twins looked on expectantly, though some suspicion hung in the air until she went on to explain herself.

"Mr. Nikolai isn't a _vory_ at all. He's a deep plant."

This was met with suddenly blank stares.

"He's working for the British government. He's from the FSB, working with the Russian Desk under the supervision of MI6."

"MI6? That's gotta be a government overt ops agency, right?" Remy guessed, and Peggy nodded.

"Their goal is to bring down the _vorys_. He's here, playing along to keep up appearances for the mob."

"And you know this how?"

It took a beat for her to reply. "My parents are MI6. And his handlers."

They all quietly turned the whole damn thing over in their heads.

Mr. Nikolai was an undercover agent for the British, in for the long con with the _vorys_ , and had made his way up the ranks.

The _vorys_ made peace with the Thieves to take shots at the Assassins

Mr. Nikolai was sent by the _vorys_ as their inside man with the Assassins.

A planted plant that was a plant...that was planted?

This was to say nothing of how much more complex it was made by virtue of all three teens' backgrounds. Crime, government, and who the hell knew what else was going on. While neither Remy nor Riley would say it, they both feared exactly what this garden of planting would mean for them -- how much about the Thieves was Mr. Nikolai was passing along to the _vorys,_ or this MI6 group? Neither was sure of which would be worse.

Riley was wondering exactly what Peggy thought of them now. Given, she'd dealt with their Guild lineage well enough so far, but now? Completely different game. Or was it? She cursed internally. Her head was starting to spin in too-fast circles of nerves.

Remy was on the verge of chomping down hard on his lip, but settled for tapping on the edge of his plate. He hoped that Saint Nicholas hadn't forgotten them yet, and was still putting in a good word on he and his sisters' behalf. God knew (hah!) they needed it.

Peggy's own thoughts weren't that different from the LeBeaus'. She too was wondering what it would mean for her friends. Her parents knew that Riley and Remy were Guild, and knew what was going on with Mr. Nikolai and the _vorys_. They were orchestrating the whole bloody thing. What their knowledge would do, could do, to them was terrifying to her. She made a mental note to try and suss out what she could to protect the twins, if not their family. Pipe dream, perhaps, but she cared about them far too deeply to do anything else.

"It's enough t'make you go crosseyed," Remy decided, shoving his empty plate away from him. This was an understatement to say the least, but it was all he had to work with at that point in time.

There was silence.

"You know that we have to make a deal," Peggy said slowly. "I've told you things you shouldn't know, and you've shared things I shouldn't know."

Riley perked up at this. Hope on the wing. "So you're suggesting what, 'zactly?"

 "I don't say a word, you don't say a word, and we keep this as close and as quiet as we can."

"I thought that three can keep a secret if two are dead," Remy quoted;  his voice edged on bitter.  
  
Peggy's mouth turned up at the right corner. "Benjamin Franklin clearly didn't have friends like you two. Besides," she countered, smile growing ever broader, "I think we all like each other far too much to end this in bloodshed, don't you?"

***

It didn't take a whole lot of time for things to change significantly.

Mr. Nikolai made a graceful, completely believable exit complete with a proper two weeks' notice to the school. His story was that there was 'family' -- a word that presumably translated to his comrades in the _vory v zakone_ _\--_ back in London that needed him. Neighbors would later note that no-one ever moved  in to his condo once he'd left.

About a week after that, Mr. and Mrs. Carter announced that they were moving back to England. They claimed that they wanted Peggy to finish her schooling at a reputable prep school (it just happened to be the one that Mrs. Carter had attended as a teen) before going to a good British university. Her parents weren't saying it aloud, but were hinting heavily that they had hopes for Cambridge.

For the three teens in the know, the whole thing was almost funny in its absurdity.

It cumulated in the three of them standing in an airport, milling around by a security checkpoint and making their goodbyes.

"So what're you gonna do now?" Remy asked.

She shrugged. "Finish school. Get into Cambridge to keep my parents happy. Find work in the intelligence sector, perhaps. Mum and Dad won't  approve, but there's still opportunity there."

"You'd be good at it."

"Hell," Riley laughed. "I'd be scared if you came after me."

This led to the inevitable awkward moment. There was no physical indicator: no scuffing of shoes, no glancing at the ground, no fidgeting. It was all in the air.

"You...you think you'd ever come after the Guild one day?"

Peggy smiled crookedly. "Not if I can help it."

Riley and Remy smiled back. It was weak on both their parts.

"Come here, both of you," Peggy said, exasperated.

The twins obliged her, and Peggy placed a hand to Riley's cheek before gently pulling the girl's face down to her. Riley looked shocked for a moment, but was quickly distracted by Peggy's mouth meeting hers. She'd have been lying if she said she hadn't been hoping something like this would happen, even if the situation wasn't quite what she'd imagined. Peggy's kiss was eagerly reciprocated. Apparently Peggy had known about her feelings all along...or so she hoped. Whatever. Didn't really matter, did it? She'd take the kiss.

After releasing Riley, Peggy followed that up by grabbing a rather stunned Remy by the shoulders, and going up on her toes to give a repeat performance. Remy had always done his level best to give Peggy her space despite his attraction, seeing as he knew better than to force anything, especially something that could possibly ruin the friendship that he, Riley, and Peggy had forged. This was all kinds of validation though and damn if it didn't kill him when she let go. Of _course_ she had to be leaving just then.

"Peggy!" called Mr. Carter, who was smiling at what he'd seen. "We've a flight to catch."

Peggy waved as she headed for the security checkpoint, and the twins waved back, still a little dazed.

"She kissed me first," Riley grinned, turning towards Remy only to be met with one of his own.

"Ah, but did you get any tongue?"

"Yep."

"Goddammit."

-Fin-

 


End file.
